


Second Chances and the Strings that Accompany Them

by AuntieL



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:39:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuntieL/pseuds/AuntieL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Hermione_Smut round Six</p><p>Prompt #75: The Fates have given Salazar Slytherin the opportunity for a second chance with some major strings, including making one Hermione Granger happy. Hermione is more interested in her work than dating.</p><p>Additional comments: After Riddle is killed, SS is given the opportunity to return in order to clear his name and make up for the injustices done to one Muggle-born witch by his descendant. Salazar tries to meet with her, but she refuses, citing her desire to get ____ project up and running as being more important than meeting with some pureblood supremacist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chances and the Strings that Accompany Them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarhea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarhea/gifts).



**Monday, October 1, 2011 (Samhain)**

“Those are the conditions, wizard. Do you agree?”

“Do I agree? What other choice is there?”

The answering voice was wry, “You _could_ opt to remain where you are… where you have been… since your death.”

“Yes, but then my line will have ended with that awful excuse for a wizard. That is unacceptable.”

“So, do you agree with our terms? We will not ask again.”

“Yes. I agree.”

“So mote it be.”

Before he could reply in turn, his spirit was ripped from the plane it had inhabited for a thousand years and was painfully united with a body. He wouldn't know if it was _his own_ body until he came back to consciousness, but before he succumbed to delirium, he realised that he was in his own Chamber, deep under the dungeons of Hogwarts. 

When he awoke, Fawkes was sitting next to him. He was curled around his former Familiar and cherished his warmth. "Fawkes, my old friend, how are you? Are you still serving the Castle well?" 

The bird trilled in reply. 

Salazar groaned as he stretched his limbs, testing their strength, and decided to attempt to stand. He slowly drew his legs up beneath him and leaned forward, grunting as he stood, a bit wobbly on his feet, much like a newborn fawn. Once he gained his equilibrium, he took stock in his physical being. He seemed to have regained his own physical form, although he felt a few inches taller and quite a bit younger than he recalled. 

"Fawkes, would you bring me to the Headmaster?"

The bird looked at him and cocked its head. Salazar interpreted this move as a welcoming gesture and stroked the bird’s head, and Fawkes leaned into his hand affectionately.

"I thank you, old boy.” He grasped the Phoenix's tail, and the bird flashed them both into the Headmaster's office, startling one Severus Snape to immediate readiness, wand prepared to hex whomever had just appeared in his office. When he saw that Fawkes was one of the new arrivals, Severus relaxed slightly, knowing that the bird was loyal to Hogwarts and incapable of bringing any kind of harm to him. The wizard whom Fawkes had transported seemed tense, but had not drawn a wand. 

Severus's gaze narrowed. "Who are you?"

Salazar showed both hands, palms facing the man he took to be the current Headmaster as evidence of his unthreatening intent. "I mean you no harm." 

Severus snorted. "Of course not, or Fawkes would never have brought you to me." 

Salazar smirked wryly. "Yes, he always has been a good judge of character."

"Yes, he has, but you still haven't answered my question."

"Has it been so very long? Am I so very altered as to be unrecognisable?"

Severus tilted his head to scrutinise the man before him, "Altered?"

"Yes. I understand that I died many centuries ago, but I was assured that my name was still known. My school still stands, so I can only imagine..." 

“You died _centuries_ ago? " _Your_ school?"

Salazar smiled faintly, "Yes, as I helped build it, I do tend to consider it mine."

"You helped build..." Severus’s voice trailed off as he tried desperately to recall the Founders' portraits; they had all been so quiet for the past hundred years, they almost seemed Muggle for all the animation they displayed. Even so, what was the likelihood that a Founder -- if he was whom he seemed to be claiming, he would have to be Salazar Slytherin, as he bore no resemblance to Godric Gryffindor -- had returned to life? "Salazar Slytherin?"

His face broke out into what appeared to be a genuine grin, "Ah, so you _do_ know of me! Tell me -- the Fates were not inclined to give much detail -- how long has it been, exactly?"

"How long? Since you..."

"Died. Yes. How long have I been dead?"

Severus blinked at his candour. "It has been a bit more than a thousand years."

Salazar felt his knees wobble a bit, and he sat down hard on the chair behind him. "A thousand... does anyone remember me at all?"

"Well, yes. We do still have Slytherin House as one of the four Houses, so you are definitely still well known... as are your infamous feelings on blood status and the fact that you were a Dark wizard are also known. You should be aware that blood status has been a very hot political topic in the past fifty years or so, primarily due to your own beliefs and those held and propagated by the last heir of your line. A war has been waged and those who purported that type of belief were soundly defeated." Severus ended his declaration with a sneer, not wishing for another self-styled Dark Lord to rise, espousing a doctrine of the importance of the purity of blood.

“He was no heir of mine,” Salazar growled. “He was an _abomination_ \-- anyone willing to do what he had done -- to desecrate his own soul at the expense of so many others -- should not be suffered to live.” He paused for a moment. “Which of my beliefs contributed to blood status disputes?” 

Severus decided that their oddly candid discourse would continue and answered the question baldly, “Your belief that only those of pure blood should be educated at Hogwarts, of course.” 

He was treated to seeing Salazar Slytherin blustering. “I never said any such thing!”

“Truly? Well, then, history has done you a great disservice.”

“I should say so!” Salazar’s indignation was surprisingly palpable. 

“Where do you imagine the history writers would get the idea that you felt the Muggle-borns were... inferior?”

Salazar shook his head in confusion, “I am at a loss. Do they not teach where the elements come into play with the various magical breeds? Has so much knowledge been lost?”

“The elements?”

“Yes, of course. Wizards are Fire Born, Goblins are born of metal -- hence their affinity to silverworking and banking, the Fae and Elves are born of wood. Merfolk and Selkies are, of course, born of water, and the Muggle-born are born of the Earth. Their magic is pure because they are the closest in their tie to the ley lines that carry magic through the earth.” 

“Well, that is certainly different from how it has been passed down through history.”

“Mm.” After a moment of deep contemplation, Salazar fixed Severus with his gaze. “As you know my name, may I know yours, Headmaster?”

Severus Snape stammered uncharacteristically at the abrupt change of topic and the directness of the query, “I apologise, sir. My name is Severus Snape.”

“How long have you been on staff at Hogwarts?”

“I have been on staff for a total of thirty-one years. Twenty-seven of those years were spent as the Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House.” At this information, Salazar gave a pleased smile as Severus continued, “I have been Headmaster for the past four years, after the previous Headmistress retired. She fought in the last two wars, and retired four years ago, at the age of seventy-two. She still lives at the Castle, as her only family are several nieces and nephews who live abroad. As she is a diehard Scot, she prefers to stay at the Castle most of the time.”

Salazar nodded. “Yes, a witch should not be left alone in the world.” 

This statement drew a hearty laugh from Severus. When he calmed down, he explained, “Minerva McGonagall is one of the strongest people I have ever met -- regardless of gender. She has remained at the Castle because she is welcome to do so, and it is helpful and pleasant to have another adult around. She also assists with meeting with incoming Muggle-borns and their families, as it is a task she greatly enjoys, while I do not.”

“Do you dislike Muggles? Is it not part of the Headmaster’s duties to meet with incoming Muggle-born students?”

“I have absolutely no quarrel with Muggles nor with Muggle-born witches and wizards. Like Minerva, I am a half-blood. We each had a witch for a mother and a Muggle for a father, although I daresay that her Muggle father was a better example than my own sire was. Over the years, we have found that Muggle parents relate better to her motherly aspect than my own personage. I have been told that I am... intimidating. I also find repeatedly explaining the magical world to people who don’t believe in it to be tedious.”

After a moment, Severus spoke again, asking the question that had been pressing on his mind since the Founder had reappeared in his office, “So, I imagine the Fates must have a grand plan for you. Were they kind enough to inform you of what you must do to earn another opportunity at life?”

“Oh, they were quite gleeful in their _assignment_ and I hope you may be able to assist me in understanding the reason for their glee.”

“Gleeful? That cannot be a good omen.”

“Indeed. I am tasked with making one Hermione Granger happy. Do you know her?”

Severus gaped, uncaring of what Salazar Slytherin may think of him. “Did you say ‘Hermione Granger’?”

“Yes. They made certain that I knew the name, and that I would be able to find someone who could make the necessary introductions. Am I correct in my assumption that you are acquainted with Miss Granger?”

“Yes, I am acquainted with her.” 

“Excellent! Would you be willing to introduce us?”

“I am afraid it may not be quite so simple. You see, Ms. Granger is Muggle-born, and believes you to be the progenitor of the beliefs that have seen her abused, attacked, maligned, and, at times, hunted for the past twenty years. She is the most famous Muggle-born in all of Britain, and the main reasons for this have been painful for her. 

“Since the first day she arrived at Hogwarts, she was on the receiving end of prejudice due to her blood status. As hostilities related to the war escalated, so did the prejudice. During the war, she and her two best friends were captured and she alone was selected to be tortured by means of the Cruciatus curse during an interrogation; she was chosen because the pureblood witch guilty of the assault believed that a lowly Muggle-born would not be able to withstand the torture, and would tell them all they wished to know. Miss Granger however, did _not_ break.

“After the war, she found it impossible to find an apprenticeship, again due to her Muggle-born status. Most Masters in the country who accept apprentices had been contracted years ago by pure- and half-blood parents, and there were simply no slots for her, even though she is an incredibly brilliant and powerful witch. Her educational choices were to leave the country or set up a contract with a Master and wait until a slot opened up, which would take years. Obviously, neither of these choices were particularly attractive, but she chose to go to abroad for her studies.

“When she returned from her studies, she set up her shop with the rest of the money she’d inherited from her parents when they’d died shortly after her nineteenth birthday. She now is the leading Technomage in all of Europe.”

Salazar’s face showed that he was deep in thought. After a few moments, he looked up at the Headmaster. “She is a strong woman who has experienced much, then.”

“You have no idea.”

“And she hates the very idea of me because my words have been twisted beyond recognition.”

“I can’t speak to that; she is a singularly kind witch, although I would never want to be on her bad side.”

“Why is that?”

“While Hermione Granger _is_ singularly kind, once you’ve crossed her, she can also be singularly vindictive and imaginatively wicked.”

“Kind _and_ wicked?”

Severus grinned, seeming to reflect on some secret past. “Oh yes. And she’s brilliant in her inventiveness.”

Salazar cocked his head to one side, narrowing his eyes slightly in question. Severus continued, “She organised a student-run Defence group in her fifth year due to the ineptitude of the Ministry-appointed ‘professor’ teaching the subject. She required secrecy from all participants and had each student sign an enchanted parchment. The girl who betrayed them still has the marks on her face for her troubles. That selfsame excuse for a Defence instructor was carried off by the Centaurs after Ms. Granger led her into the Forest on a wild goose chase after attempting to curse Miss Granger’s best friend with the Cruciatus curse. The woman ended up in the long-term ward at St. Mungo’s -- evidently, she goes still ‘round the twist whenever she hears hoofbeats, and it’s been fifteen years.

“But she is most certainly kind. While she still was uncertain about my status as traitor versus spy, I was attacked during the skirmish by Tom Riddle’s familiar: a snake. I gave some memories to her best friend to allow him to know what needed to be done to win the war, and while he came here to watch the memories in the Pensieve, she started to heal me. When all was said and done, and I was proven to be aligned with the Light, she helped to clear my name. Thanks to her, I didn’t spend any time in Azkaban.

“When her parents died, I supported her along with her friends, and I assisted in helping her find a reputable and skilled Charms Master for her apprenticeship. She has become like family.”

Salazar nodded, understanding the implication: Hermione Granger was under Severus Snape’s protection. Deal with him as one would deal with a father figure. 

“How does one gain an introduction to a single witch with no parents these days?”

“Generally, you would simply go to her and speak with her.”

Salazar seemed scandalised. 

“Yes, societal norms have changed, and even more so for a Muggle born witch. She would be affronted if someone tried to interfere unduly in her personal life.” Severus paused. “However, her assistant is a former Slytherin, and has tried on numerous occasions to introduce her to wizards, all to no avail. I believe we would be able to enlist her assistance.”

▲▼▲▼▲▼

Severus called Pansy Potter, née Parkinson, who went to Hogwarts to meet with her former Head of House and the Founder of her House to plan a way to make her boss -- her _friend_ happy again before her husband returned from his business trip. Over the course of the week, she spent all her free time away from work at the castle. By the end of the week, they had a plan: she would get Hermione to agree to a blind date, and then Salazar would take it from there. Since the Fates had charged _him_ with helping Hermione find happiness, she and Severus didn’t wish to interfere or assist overmuch.

▲▼▲▼▲▼

Hermione stretched as she woke up. Opening her eyes, she saw the clock. “Shite! Is that the time?” She went from deeply asleep to dashing across to the loo at full speed in less than five seconds. She turned on the water and brushed her teeth as she showered to save time. She hastily charmed her body and hair dry, only momentarily lamenting the extra frizz that the process caused. She dressed hastily in her ‘uniform’ of serviceable robes suitable for a day in the lab and dashed through the kitchen, grabbing a banana on her way down the stairs to her lab.

“Good morning, Pansy, how are you this morning?”

“Fine. Please tell me that your dishevelled appearance is due to a hot night of shagging and waking up late because you’re so deliciously worn out.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “How likely is that scenario?”

“Very likely, for any other witch in her prime, as you are. But in your specific case, it is far too _un_ likely,” Pansy said in an arch tone. 

“‘Far too unlikely’? Pish posh! My business is positively _thriving._ No one else in Great Britain -- and only a handful in all of Europe -- does what I do, so there’s almost no competition. I have no deep-seated desire to have children, so there’s no rush to ‘find a man.’ I have godchildren I can dote on, no nappies to change, and when they start whining and fussing I just give them back to their parents. It’s the best of both worlds.”

“Really, Hermione? You’re really fulfilled with just your _work?_ You live your entire life in this building, aside from the few times a week you leave to pick up some take-away or to go to the occasional Weasley dinner. Don’t you want more than that?”

“I’m only thirty-two years old, for Godric’s sake! I’m a powerful enough witch that I could live another hundred years - probably more! If, on the outside chance I meet someone and we want to have children, I have at least another thirty years to do so without any health risks to myself or the child. So, I’m not in any rush, and I’m certainly not going to marry some random wizard just so I can procreate.” 

Pansy sighed. “It’s just... there are more reasons to find a wizard than to _procreate,_ Hermione.”

Hermione’s only response to this was a dismissive wave of her hand as she picked up the research for her next big project and began reading. Pansy sighed and returned to her desk, shaking her head at Hermione’s stubbornness, beginning to sort and categorise the pending work tickets. 

When she looked up, Hermione had gone into her laboratory to begin working. She heaved a sigh and started to work on the accounts for the shop. She worked for a few hours, glancing at the closed door before locking up for lunch. She met Harry Potter, her husband of three years, at Gopal’s of SoHo, an Indian restaurant not too far from the shop. Before she left the restaurant to return to work, she ordered a plate of takeaway for Hermione, knowing that her boss probably hadn't stopped for lunch yet. When she returned to the shop an hour later, the door to the lab was still closed tight, and it seemed obvious that Hermione _hadn’t_ stopped for lunch at all. Knowing better than to interrupt Hermione, she placed the food under a stasis charm. 

At half two in the afternoon, Hermione came out into the office. “Pansy, I need to grab lunch, but don’t have time. Could you please run to the Leaky Cauldron and pick up...” She trailed off as Pansy smiled and cancelled the stasis charm on the plate of curry and the scent wafted across the room as Pansy lifted and offered the plate to her. 

“Thank you so much. How did you know?”

“You _were_ in the lab, Granger. It’s not my first day on the job. I know how wrapped up you can get -- and I know not to just walk in there unexpectedly. So, when I went to lunch with Harry, I picked up a plate for you.” She proffered the plate again, wiggling it towards Hermione. 

Hermione took the plate and fork and dug in with relish as she sat at the chair beside Pansy’s desk. “This is delicious,” she said, pointing at the plate with her fork. “Did you get it from Gopal’s?”

“Yes, it’s my favourite. The naan is so soft and melt-in-your-mouth.” 

“Mmm. Yes. And the Rogan Josh is so tender. Thank you again.”

“My pleasure. So, back to what we were discussing before: would you be willing to meet someone?”

“What, like a blind date? What wizard of our age do I not already know? Why bother?”

“Is that why you say you don’t want children? Because you don’t think there’s anyone out there?”

“No. Not really.” She winced, uncomfortable with being the centre of Pansy’s attention when romance was the topic. “It’s just... I _do_ know all the blokes our age and several years older and younger than us. I’ve never met anyone whom I fancied. Not since Roger. There’s a Muggle saying that you can find love when you stop looking for it, so I’ve stopped.”

“But Hermione, it’s been almost _ten years_ since Roger; he was young, immature, and not ready to make a lifetime commitment when you dated. Besides that, there’s a difference between ‘not looking’ and ‘giving up.’ You haven’t just stopped looking; you never go out socially -- not even with the girls. You’ve stopped wearing any kind of makeup, and you’ve given up any attempts to control your hair. You live in the same building you work in, and you rarely leave it. You deserve better. You deserve more.”

"Fine. I deserve more. But what use is there? If he’s English, Welsh, or Scottish, I already know him and may have already dated him. I also know a good number of wizards from the States. So, unless the bloke is _decades_ older than me, I’ve probably more or less already decided that we don't suit."

"What if he is a _lot_ older?"

"Why? Have you found a sexy octogenarian for me? No thanks. I'm not a fan of saggy bollocks." 

"Hermione! Ew! No, he's not an octogenarian, but he is... older, and you _haven't_ met him yet, so you can't dismiss him out of hand as unsuitable."

"How old is he, then? Wizarding Britain isn't that large. I imagine I've met him at some point in time."

"Well, he's... new to the... area. I'm quite certain you haven't met him."

"Pansy, why are you being so vague? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing's wrong with him. He's brilliant - an innovator in his field, and quite renowned. You'll have tonnes to discuss, I just know it."

"I don't know, Pans. I'm just so tired of mismatches and awkward setups. They're so uncomfortable and quite a waste of everyone’s time. Maybe I should just go back to America or the Continent - somewhere where I can actually meet someone who doesn't know me or have some preconceived notion of who I am and what I'm like. Did you know that last Christmas, you were the only person who didn't give me a gift token from Obscurus Books and Flourish and Blotts?"

"Really? So no one else knows of your ‘addiction’?"

 _"No!_ And don't you _dare_ tell them, if you value your job!"

"Oh please, Granger. You would never fire me. I know you too well, I am far too effective at organising your life for you, and I _do_ know of your little addiction - and feed it regularly. I'm far too valuable of an employee and friend."

"Damn you." 

Pansy laughed a genuine laugh, "You only say that because it's true, and you hate when someone else is right and makes a valid point against you."

"Damn you."

Pansy's laugh grew louder. "Look, just meet the bloke. If I'm wrong, I won't try to set you up for six months."

"One year."

"This wasn't a negotiation."

"It is one now. If we don't suit, then you don't try to set me up for two years."

"What happened to one?"

"That offer expired. Want to make it three?"

Pansy frowned, "No. Okay. If you don't suit, I won't try to set you up for a year."

Hermione scowled. "I'll hold you to that. You know I will."

"Yes, yes, the most Slytherin of all Gryffindors and all that rot. I know better than to cross you." 

"Good. We have a deal. But mark my words - I'm not hopeful."

"Duly noted. I'll set everything up and will give you the details."

"Do I get to know his name?"

"No. This is a truly blind date - I'm not giving you the opportunity to look him up before the date and decide all the reasons why he isn't a good match."

"Bollocks."

Pansy laughed as she walked towards the door. "You know it’s for the best. Rest easy - even Severus thinks it will be a good match. Well, it's Friday, and it's four o'clock. I'm going to head out and see if I can't arrange this date for you."

"Severus? He’s involved, too? _Wonderful.”_

"Sarcasm isn't helpful."

"I'll owl you the details."

"I shall be waiting with bated breath."

"More sarcasm? Really?"

Hermione pouted. "What else do I have in this situation?"

"I see your point."

"I rather thought you would."

"Yes, you never like not being in control."

"Go home, Pansy. I think I hear Harry calling you."

Pansy chuckled. "Good night, Hermione. Don't work too late."

"I will. You know I will."

Pansy smiled at her, "I'll owl you tomorrow."

"Have a good night."

"You too."

▲▼▲▼▲▼

When Pansy left, she didn't go straight home. Instead, she Apparated to Hogsmeade and walked towards Hogwarts. When she came to the gates, she was met by Severus Snape.

"Did she agree?"

"Of course she did. You did ask _me_ to persuade her. I know her better than almost anyone." She paused, "Is he okay?"

"He is fine, but anxious."

"Anxious?"

"Yes, after being briefed on what has happened in Wizarding Britain since his demise and the twisting of his beliefs in greater detail than the Fates had seen fit, he is concerned that she may not welcome his suit."

"I can understand that to some extent, but can you imagine Hermione Granger rejecting one of the Founders? I certainly can't."

Severus chuckled. "Well, and I imagine he has knowledge of magics that have been lost to time -- I daresay that that is an inducement Ms. Granger won't be able to resist." 

Pansy smirked. "Excellent point, Headmaster."

"Have you dined? We'll be having dinner in about an hour."

"Is he dining in the Great Hall?"

"No, we are keeping his presence quiet until at least after he meets Ms. Granger. If it does not go well, he won't be able to stay, so there won't be any reason to announce his return."

Pansy hummed her understanding. "Well, as I said, she agreed to meet him, and I’ve told her I would arrange a blind date. She doesn't know his identity."

"What were her terms?"

Pansy laughed. "You know her too well. If it goes badly, I'm not allowed to arrange any set-ups for a year."

Severus smiled. "Well, I anticipate that it _will_ go well, so we won't have to worry about it."

"Too right. There's so much more to him than we ever knew, and since his portrait has all but gone silent in the past two hundred years, he has become quite the enigma. There is little that Hermione loves more than a puzzle. She'll want to learn what makes him tick. Not to mention that the Fates themselves have intervened to some extent, and they believe it to be a good match. For them to take such an active interest, this should be interesting to see."

"Yes, I imagine any lingering issues of blood purity will finally be put to rest."

"About damn time, if you ask me. I’ve worked for Hermione for years and I’ve seen the skill and dedication she has to her craft. That opened my eyes to the non-purebloods around me: Dean Thomas is well on his way to being a modern master. And then there's Harry Potter, the Dark Lord, Dumbledore... and _you_... not a single pureblood on that list, and you have all done incredible magic. Some of it was horrific, but still... incredible. Even Draco has admitted that it’s all tosh. Some of the older generations will probably never admit it, but those of my generation have learnt our lessons well. Blood purity really has nothing to do with the ability or right to wield magic.”

“Miss Parkinson, you do me proud. I... am happy to hear that the lessons are being learned and learned well. I was despairing of Draco.”

“Oh, your godson still dislikes most half-bloods and Muggle-borns, but now that’s more an issue of class and proper behaviour than blood status. They’re all far too Gryffindor or Hufflepuff for his tastes.”

Severus laughed heartily, “I imagine so. On some level, I would have to agree with that assessment. How is your husband? Does he not wonder why you are not available of late?”

“Harry is just fine. He’s been away with the team for the last ten days, so it hasn’t been an issue, but he returned this morning, so it will become a bit more of a challenge to carve out time to come for a visit without him."

▲▼▲▼▲▼

Hermione arrived at the restaurant exactly on time, feeling ridiculous. _This was why she canceled the_ first _date!_ She was annoyed with herself and cursing Pansy for convincing her that she didn’t really need to know the name of the wizard she was meeting. Why should he get to know who she was, if she didn’t know who he was?

Less than a minute later, a wizard she’d never seen before approached, walking directly towards her. She forced a smile and extended her hand to be shaken. He seemed confused for a short moment before grasping her hand with his own and lifting it to his lips. 

“Miss Granger, I am honoured to meet you.”

“Hello... Well, I don’t know your name. How do you do?”

“I am well, thank you.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion. _Is he really not going to tell me his name?_

Her escort tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and began walking toward the entrance of the restaurant. She discreetly looked at him askance and noted that he had long, sleek, black hair pulled into a queue, secured with a ribbon, which made her think that he must use a sticking charm, because ribbons would notoriously slide out of her own hair, even though her hair had much more texture to hold a ribbon in place. 

His skin was quite pale, but that wasn’t terribly unusual this late in the year. His lashes were quite long -- almost feminine -- and if she remembered correctly, his eyes were a deep, amazingly piercing blue. 

Not wanting to be caught examining him, she looked down at her hand resting on his sleeve, and saw his other hand come up and rest atop her own. Surprised by the tenderness and intimacy of the gesture, her eyes snapped back to his face, which remained mostly impassive, but she could swear she saw a hint of a smile. 

Since she couldn’t read his face as she stood beside him, waiting for their table, she looked back at his hand, which still held hers. 

Runes.

He had Elder Futhark runes tatooed across the back of his hand. The angle wasn’t terribly good for reading them, but she found herself trying to, anyway. _Sowilo, Laguz, Isaz, Thurisaz, Ehwaz, Raido, Eihwaz, Naudiz._

_Those runes don’t_ go _together._

She found herself even more confused. Most runic tattoos were done for blessings or to balance one’s magic -- she had several, herself -- but these weren’t placed where one would normally place a runic tattoo, and the runes were... _wrong_. If not exactly wrong, they certainly weren’t magical. 

She frowned in thought, trying to dissect the enigma next to her who seemed more willing to dissemble than to clarify any questions she may have. 

As they followed the hostess to their table, Hermione cleared her throat. “May I know your name?”

After almost stumbling and a half of a moment’s hesitation, Salazar replied, “You may call me ‘Fenwick.’” 

Again, Hermione frowned. “I may call you ‘Fenwick,’ but that is not your name?”

Salazar grinned. “They said you were intelligent.”

“Actually, I’m more logical than intelligent, and you didn’t answer my question.”

“You are also persistent.” Salazar chuckled. “I would prefer you get to know me before knowing my true name.”

“Why is that? Are you ashamed of something? Hiding something? Just what have Pansy and Severus gotten me into?”

Salazar patted her hand gently. “You aren’t _into_ anything. My family name is fairly well-known, and many people have preconceived notions, so I wish to get to know you on a personal level first. If you wish, I will swear an oath that I mean you no ill will.”

“No, I won’t require an oath. I know what it is to have people assume they know you because they know your name. It’s something I’ve dealt with for most of my life. I do think it’s a bit unfair that you know who I am, but I cannot know who you are. I just feel that I am at a disadvantage.”

“I understand, but please afford me this for tonight. If, after tonight, you wish to spend more time together, we can revisit the topic. Until then, the point is essentially moot.”

Hermione turned to look at him, and found herself unable to refuse his earnest face. “Oh, all right. ‘Fenwick,’ is it, then?”

Salazar grinned as he held out her chair for her,. “Yes. Thank you so very much.”

She sat down, and he moved around the small table to his own chair, and the waiter handed them menus before walking away. 

“So, Fenwick, were you educated at Hogwarts? You seem only a few years older than me, but I don’t remember you from school.”

“No, I was home schooled.”

“I see. So, you’re a pureblood? Have they told you that I’m Muggle-born?”

“Yes, to both questions, but it doesn’t matter to me. Neither of us controlled anything about who our parents were; the only thing that matters is what we do with what we’re given.”

Hermione grinned. “I couldn’t agree more.” 

“So, I know that you’re in business for yourself. What can you tell me about it?”

“Well, it’s interesting, but also maddening at times. I admit that I work too much... but it’s absolutely fascinating. I love the challenge of making something work... the struggle of solving the puzzle and making the magic work -- bending and twisting it to my will.” 

Salazar nodded, “I imagine it would be terribly challenging and interesting and frustrating all at the same time, but then, when it all comes together, that it would be quite the triumph.”

Hermione’s face lit up, “Yes! Exactly!”

“I understand. When I experiment with my potions, I find it similarly challenging.” 

“You experiment with potions? Have you met the Headmaster at Hogwarts, Severus Snape?”

“Indeed I have, but I wouldn’t say I know him well.” 

“Well, he’s brilliant with potions -- you should definitely spend time with him. If you’re interested, they’re frequently searching for qualified Potions professors at Hogwarts since he became Headmaster.”

“That would certainly be interesting. I wouldn’t be averse to teaching, and I would have the summers and holidays to experiment. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taught; I rather enjoy it.” 

“You teach? I’ve often thought of teaching, too.” 

“Yes, I have taught before, but I thought your business kept you so very busy. How would you find time to teach?”

“My business does keep me terribly busy, but I’m beginning an apprenticeship programme. I will be taking on an apprentice at the end of this school year, and another the year after that, and once they are trained, we will become partners. As they become more skilled, we will be able to share the work, and eventually, I can step back from having such an active role, and I can work during the school hols, much like a Potions professor would be able to experiment over the summers. It should all be ready just around the time Professor Flitwick is ready to retire.”

“Interesting. Why have you not taken an apprentice before now?”

“I was looking for people with very specific skill sets and knowledge of Muggle electronics, as well as extremely gifted in Charms. I’ve been looking for the right person to apprentice for several years.”

The waiter came and took their orders -- roast quail for Salazar and steak and potatoes for Hermione. They continued to chat about their work, and Hermione found it a relief to find someone who spoke passionately about his work, but willing to listen to her, as well. 

At the end of the evening, Salazar offered her his arm as they left the table. “Would you care to go for a walk, Hermione?”

Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, she answered, “I’d love that.”

As they walked along the edge of a park, Hermione began thinking of _Fenwick’s_ runic tattoos again. “Fenwick, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I’d noticed your tattoos, but they don’t seem to make sense to me. I have a few runic tattoos, as well, but they are more... functional than decorative. I feel that I’ve been a bit distracted at times this evening, trying to figure out how yours work. May I see them again?”

Salazar looked at her curiously. “You know Runes?”

“Ancient Runes was one of my favourite classes in school. I loved trying to puzzle things out, and then as I grew older, I realised how useful Runes can be, and did research. My Runic tattoos are some of the best things I’ve done for balancing my magic.”

She reached her hand out, expecting him to place his hand in it. 

When he did so, and skin touched skin for the first time, they both gasped at the sensation, and Hermione quickly drew her hand away. “Oh! Did you...”

Salazar nodded. “I’ve never felt anything like it before. Have you?”

“No. Never. I wonder what it means?”

“I’ve heard of it, and read of it in ancient texts. I believe it is a sign of great magical compatibility.”

As he spoke, Hermione reached for his hand again, and the sensation of her skin _singing_ returned. Instead of drawing back, she caressed the back of his hand, enjoying the feeling it evoked. Humming, she ran her fingers over the back of his hand, entwining them with his, never stopping the movement. She brought her other hand to join in caressing him, and when she did, they both gasped again, as the increased contact brought about an increased excitement. 

Hermione was now rubbing both of her hands over both sides of the hand she held, desperate to continue the enjoyable feelings the contact was evoking. 

Salazar brought his other hand and caressed her wrist, trying to calm her reaction. She looked up into his eyes, her confusion evident. “Why? How? Why do you make me feel like this?”

Salazar groaned. “As I said, I believe it is a sign of compatibility. Our magics are reacting to each other. It is a sign of a great blessing.”

“A ‘great blessing’? In my experience, blessings usually come with strings attached. The Fates rarely give anything away for free.”

Salazar laughed. “It’s as if you’ve met them.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, “It certainly sounds as if _you_ have.”

Salazar laughed, “Whoever has met the Fates?”

She narrowed her eyes in response, recognising a non-answer, but chose to ignore that particular riddle for the _first_ riddles -- his tattoo and their physical reaction to each other. “I know subterfuge when I see it, Fenwick, but I will allow it for now. We have enough mysteries in front of us, don’t we?”

She reached again for the hand that she’d dropped at his mention of the Fates and the same _singing_ sensation shot through her, and she felt drawn to him. Trying her best to ignore it, she pulled his sleeve back to reveal the tattoo. 

“These runes don’t seem to be for magical balancing or strengthening or blessing. What was their purpose?”

Salazar almost cursed. She was running her fingers across the family runes on his hand, and it was practically the equivalent of a lust potion. He couldn’t exactly tell her that they simply spelled out his family name -- that would probably put her off him completely. Instead, he decided on redirection. 

She had begun nibbling her lip as she thought through the meaning of the runes. He reached up with his free hand and gently placed his crooked forefinger under her chin and pulled her lower lip from between her teeth with his thumb. This put her in the perfect position to be kissed, and he took his advantage. 

He pressed his lips to hers, still holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger to help ensure she wouldn’t pull away. Her surprise was evident for a fraction of a second, but then the Fates’ _interference_ flared in both of them, as if a tiny flame were being fanned into a bonfire. She gasped, dropping his hand in favour of clutching at his shoulder with one hand while spearing the other into his hair. When she did this, he moved his hand from holding her chin to cradling the back of her head. His other hand wound around her, finally splaying on her lower back, pulling her close. 

What had begun as a distraction to lead her away from questions about his tattoos quickly overwhelmed both of them, and he didn’t wish to end with just a kiss. He felt his arousal stirring and drew her impossibly closer. To his surprise, she didn’t draw away; she seemed to revel in their closeness -- their _intimacy_. 

He thanked every deity that he hadn’t been alive during the horribly proper Victorian Era. In his day, people had been free to express themselves -- to an extent -- even in public. But this kiss was quickly passing that point of propriety, and he found himself not wanting to stop. His hand slid lower and around to the swell of her hip. 

“Would you be willing to have a drink at my place? It’s not far from here...” Hermione trailed off, unsure of his reception of her offer, unsure of why she’d offered at all.

Salazar smiled at her, “I would love to.”

“Hold on, and I will Apparate both of us.”

Salazar winced at being brought via side-along, but said nothing. Upon arriving in front of her shop, he looked down at her again, “Is this not your place of work?”

“Well, yes, but my flat is above the shop. It’s quite nice, really, two storeys. Loads of space -- more than I really need.”

“I look forward to seeing it.”

Hermione lowered the wards and opened the door. He held the door open as she walked through, and followed her. As soon as he’d passed her, she reset the wards as he waited. She then led the way to the door to the flat, lowering _those_ wards as well. 

“You ward both doors separately, and with different ward sets?”

Hermione jumped, not anticipating him to be so close, nor to recognise that the wards on this door varied from the exterior wards. “Yes, as a Charms Mistress, I enjoy setting wards, so in addition to adding to my security, they are a bit of a hobby.”

“Interesting.”

She led the way up the stairs, and once he entered the large lounge, he understood what she’d meant. “You were right, this is a lovely space. I like the way the kitchen is open to the lounge. It allows for more time together, even if one is hard at work making a meal.”

Hermione laughed, “That would be a lovely sentiment if I weren’t such a terror in the kitchen. I can make some basic things, but I’m no Julia Child.”

Salazar didn’t quite understand the reference, but certainly twigged to the general sentiment. “Good for you that I’m quite adept in the art of cooking.”

“Are you really? Good to know. Well, I can handle tea and biscuits all on my own. Please, make yourself comfortable as I get things started.”

She filled the kettle and placed it on the hob, firing it up with her wand, then placed a selection of biscuits on a plate, humming slightly out-of-tune as she worked. He sat on a stool by the kitchen island, watching her.

She’d placed the plate of biscuits and some napkins on a platter, then pulled down two mugs and placed a tea bag in each, frowning. 

“Why are you frowning?”

“I just realised that I’ve run out of loose tea. All I have are tea bags, which are, at best, a backup.”

“What’s the difference?”

 _”What’s the difference?_ Are you, or are you not, an English potioneer? It makes _all_ the difference. At the very least, the difference of the quality of the tea leaves -- loose tea uses whole leaves, while the bulk of the tea in bags are the sweepings off the floor of the factory. Then, there’s the fact that tea needs _room_ to properly brew. It needs to float around in the hot water, not be constricted in a muslin bag.”

“There’s only one thing to be done, then.”

“There is?”

“Yes, you will just have to have me over again for a proper cup of tea. Real tea. Not tea in bags.”

“Of course.”

Salazar chuckled. He’d never even heard of ‘tea’ until he’d met Severus Snape a few weeks ago. He learned enough to know that it was tasty, but he certainly didn’t know how to brew a ‘proper pot of English tea.’ He found himself looking forward to his lessons.

“Please, let’s just sit and enjoy each other’s company.” Salazar picked up the tray, which now also held the mugs of tea, some sugar, and a tiny pitcher of milk, and carried it over to the lounge area. He waited for Hermione to take a seat on the divan and then sat beside her. 

Hermione plucked the bags out of the mugs and added two spoons of sugar and a dollop of cream to one mug, “How do you take your tea?”

“Same as yours is fine.”

She nodded, adding the sugar and milk, handed him the mug and took her own between both hands. They both took a sip of the scalding hot liquid. Salazar grimaced at the temperature, but Hermione sighed in pleasure, not noticing his reaction. 

He took a chocolate biscuit as he waited for the temperature of the beverage to cool down. He’d found he quite liked chocolate biscuits, and was pleased to see some among the choices on offer this evening. 

They sat quietly for some time, unsure as to what to say after their passionate exchange. Hermione was berating herself. _How could I allow myself to kiss him like that --_ in public _? He must think I’m a complete tart now, especially after inviting him to_ my place _! What was I thinking?_

Hermione took a few calming breaths, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him holding his mug with that bloody tattooed hand that started all of this. 

“You never did answer my question about your tattoo.” She put her mug down and reached for his hand again, wondering if they would have the same reaction now that they’d calmed down.

Yes, an experiment was in order. For science. 

When their skin made contact, a frisson of pleasure shot through her once more. She could tell he was similarly affected when he gasped and almost spilled his tea. She ran her fingers over the individual runes... _Sowilo is life-force, health; Laguz is life energy, growth; Isaz is challenge or frustration; Thurisaz is conflict; Ehwaz is transportation, Raido is travel; Eihwaz -_ again? _and Naudiz for delays._

“I still don’t understand your runes, Fenwick,” she said, still caressing him.

Salazar reached forward, placing his mug on the tray, “Hermione, do you really wish to discuss _runes_? Once he’d deposited his mug safely, he turned toward her, drawing closer. 

“I suppose not.”

“I’m so very glad.” He closed the distance, kissing her again. 

The pleasure that had been thrumming whilst she held his hand blazed within them, and she gasped, feeling very much like the heroine of one of Molly’s bodice rippers -- completely out of character for a bookish businesswoman. She found herself not really caring. 

She had dated too many men who were immature, unable to hold a conversation, unenlightened, unwilling to learn, unchallenging. This man, however, was clearly all of those things and more, and she felt compelled to know him better -- in every way possible. 

He pulled her closer, and she didn’t resist. When he leaned forward, pressing her into the cushions of the sofa, she merely wrapped her arms around his shoulders. When he cupped her breast, she gasped, and he kissed her more thoroughly. 

When she felt her hips rocking, seeking friction, she made a decision and wriggled out from underneath him. 

“Hermione, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to --”

“Are you staying here, or will you join me?”

His befuddled gaze was endearing, and she smiled indulgently. “I’m a grown woman; I have no intentions of stopping, but I don’t make it a habit of shagging on the sofa.” 

She turned away, and as she did, she started removing her top. She didn’t make it halfway across the room before it was discarded, and Salazar needed no further impetus to follow. He bounded after her, and when she heard him get up from his seated position, she scurried up the open staircase to the second floor, giggling entirely uncharacteristically. 

He reached her bedroom doorway a split second after she did, and she turned around, clad only in her skirt and bra, having kicked off her shoes before running up the stairs. He reached out for her and drew her close again, kissing her. As he did, she pulled her torso away from his so she could unbutton his shirt. Frustrated with the many small buttons, she grabbed both halves of the shirt and pulled, sending buttons skittering all around the room. 

“I’ll fix it tomorrow. But you are entirely overdressed, dear sir.”

He grinned at her playfulness and traced his fingers over the lace of her fancy bra. “This is lovely. If you don’t wish it to share my shirt’s fate, I suggest you remove it quickly.”

Hermione gasped, affronted. “This is _La Perla._ We do _not_ destroy La Perla.”

“I don’t know what _La Perla_ is, but it needs to _go_.”

Hermione made quick work of the clasp and tossed the bra away, and then reached under her skirt to remove another scrap of lace that seemed to match. “I don’t want you tearing the knickers, either.”

“Good thinking.” He drew her close again, reveling in the feel of her breasts against the smattering of hair on his chest. He splayed his hands across her back -- one between her shoulders, the other just above her bum. He slid both hands to grasp her hips, and pulled her even closer. She felt his arousal through his trousers and moaned. She reached around and grabbed his arse, grinding his hips against her. 

She grabbed his belt and began to lead him to the large bed, walking backwards as she went, kissing him the whole while. 

As the backs of her legs touched the duvet, she made quick work of the leather strap and began unfastening his trousers. The fastenings of his trousers stumped her -- they were extremely old-fashioned. He reached down, and opened them in a trice. She reached around him again and slid her hands into the back of his pants and pulled them down with his trousers, but they got stuck around his ankles. He stepped out of the garments, slipping off his socks as he did. 

When he straightened up, she got a full view of his physique for the first time. She inhaled and ran her hands down his chest, physically exploring the flesh she’d just perused. He watched her while she ran her fingers over his pecs, down his arms, and then over his hips. By the time she reached the cuts on either side of his lower belly, she was completely entranced. 

She wrapped her hand around his length, and it was his turn to gasp. She pumped him twice as he reached for the closure of her skirt, which silently slipped to the floor. When he saw her naked form, he gently removed her hand and picked her up, bridal style, and deposited her on the bed. 

“You are absolutely beautiful.”

He climbed onto the bed after her, and stopped at the apex of her thighs, spreading her legs as he advanced. When his face reached her mound, he pulled apart her nether lips. Before she thought she was ready, he lowered his face and took a long lick from slit to clit. He then pulled back the hood covering her clit and suckled it, teasing it with his tongue. 

She gasped, shuddering with pleasure, and he inserted one finger, pressing and sliding it against her g-spot. 

“Oh, my _God!”_ Hermione’s hips began to buck, and Salazar had to use his free hand to hold her down. She continued rocking her hips against his face, and he added another finger to her cunt, and after a few moments, she was grasping his hair, directing his mouth exactly where she wanted him to be. 

Her legs began to squeeze together, trapping his head, and he knew she was close. He increased the pressure on her g-spot and clit, and her orgasm began. Her walls were clasping at his fingers, her thighs were battering his ears, and she was grasping his hair so firmly that his eyes began to water. 

When her legs began to relax, he slid up her body, positioning his needy cock at her opening. “Are you ready? Are you willing?”

She looked up at him in a post-orgasmic haze, “God, yes. _Please.”_

He slid into her warm wet pussy, and his eyes rolled back in pleasure. “So tight. So good.” 

Hermione bucked her hips, and Salazar began to move in time with her thrusts. She was digging her heels into the bed, trying to find purchase, but her feet kept slipping. When he realised what was happening, he leaned forward, resting some of his weight on her torso, pulling her knees to the side to make room for him. He slid his arms, palms-up, beneath her shoulders and hooked them in place, effectively locking their upper bodies together. She then wrapped her legs around him and dug her heels into his arse each time she rocked her pelvis. 

The angle allowed him to penetrate her even more deeply, and caused more friction between his body and her clit. The sensation of his chest rubbing against her nipples with each movement was driving her wild, and she raked her fingernails down his back over and over again. Finally, when she was mindless with passion, she bit his shoulder and flew apart, her orgasm ripping through her body. 

His eyes flew open when she bit him, and the tight grip of her cunt pulled his orgasm from him. He thrust a few more times and came with a loud groan of satisfaction. When his cock slipped from her body, he rolled onto his side and pulled her into an embrace as their breathing slowed. 

Hermione whispered, “Fenwick, that was _amazing_.”

Salazar pulled back, obviously deep in thought. “Salazar. Call me Salazar.”

“Why would I call you Salazar?”

“I asked you to call me Fenwick because I was born in the Fens. That is what ‘Fenwick’ means. My real name is Salazar.”

Hermione’s voice took a tone of mirth, but there was confusion behind it, “Why would anyone name their child _Salazar_ these days? What are your sisters’ names? Helga and Rowena? Don’t tell me... you have a long-lost brother named Godric, too?”

Salazar’s face betrayed his vexation at this point. He held her tightly in his embrace, afraid she would flee. “No, but they were good friends. I miss them.”

Hermione looked at him as if he were mad, “You _miss_ them?” She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. “Who are you, really? Why all the subterfuge?”

Salazar tried to pull her closer, to tuck her into his chest so he could speak without facing her. Hermione would have nothing of it. _”Salazar,_ would you mind explaining? What is your surname?”

“My surname is, as you read in my tattoo, _Slytherin._ My name is Salazar Slytherin.” He made the proclamation clearly and slowly, unsure of his reception. She drew a breath, obviously about to either berate him for his obfuscation and treachery, or for being him. Either way, it would be long and unpleasant. 

“Please believe me, it was neither my intent nor my desire to deceive. You see, I _did_ meet the Fates, and they _did_ take a personal interest in me -- and you. I was given a chance to return to this plane and restart my line, but one of the ‘strings’ was that I had to bring you happiness. To make it more difficult, I was not permitted to admit to you the truth of my circumstance -- or even my name -- until we passed a certain milestone in our relationship.”

Hermione remained silent for a few moments as she processed this explanation. “So, you’re saying that _the Fates_ cared that I hadn’t been properly shagged, so they resurrected someone who’s been dead for a thousand years to do the deed? Am I that awful? Am I that desperate? Am I --”

Salazar kissed her to stop the questions. “You are none of those things. The Fates gave me a chance because my line ended with that horrific excuse for a wizard, and they wished to match me with a worthy witch to revive a line that had been perverted and lost to the ages.”

Hermione pulled back again, “Why would you be willing to ‘revive your line’ with a mudblood?”

“Don’t use that word. You are better than that.” Salazar sighed, “I have learnt how the beliefs of my time have been perverted over the centuries.”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Salazar placed a finger over it. “Please allow me to explain. In my day, we believed that Wizards are Fire Born, Goblins are born of metal -- hence their affinity to silverworking and banking, the Fae and Elves are born of wood, hence their affinity to nature and homekeeping. Merfolk and Selkies are, of course, born of water, and the Muggle-born are born of the Earth. Their magic is pure because they are the closest in their tie to the ley lines that carry magic through the earth.

“No one type of magic is better than the other, and no one type of magic can exist without the others. All must be kept in balance. Severus told me more about the war that was waged here not too long ago, and it saddened me that such teachings would be made in my name. In the afterlife, we are able to see some things that occur in this plane, but not all. I knew my last descendant had practised some vile magics, but did not know all the filth he spewed from his mouth.” 

“The Fates may have assigned me to make you happy, but that will be my greatest joy. My mission in this life will be to undo the damage that has been done and bring honour back to the name of Slytherin. This is a large part of why I wish to teach. Would you be willing to help me? Work with me? Stay with me?”

Hermione listened carefully to his discourse, watching his face for signs of dishonesty, and found none. “So, you don’t mind that my parents are Muggles? You don’t hate Muggles?”

“No, I don’t. In my day, Muggle-borns were a danger to us all -- the country was in the process of being Christenised, and many were trying to be good Catholics. Well, Catholics by and large believed witchcraft to be a gift of Satan, so many Muggle-born children were murdered by well-meaning family who were trying to purge the demons from them. Those who survived to an age where they could attend Hogwarts were frequently brought to the Church for exorcism as a result of our visit. I proposed an adoption programme -- Muggle-born children could be adopted by magical parents, who would be magically convinced that their child had died. It was the least evil of the options available to us at the time.

He continued earnestly, “Please believe me... my favourite pupil even established an order -- an award -- for witches and wizards who save or assist Muggles with their magic. I helped him establish the rules and the criteria for the awards process.”

Hermione looked confused for a moment, and then, “You taught _Merlin?_ You helped him establish the Order of Merlin?”

“Yes, and I know I don’t exactly have proof, and I know that the award has changed over the years into an award for service to the magical community, but he was a rich man from an extremely wealthy family -- and a Muggle-born. He wanted his money to reward people who aided Muggles with their magic, as he did.”

“You’re saying that _Merlin_ was a Slytherin? He lived in the dungeons?”

Salazar nodded. “Yes, it should be in the school archives somewhere.”

Hermione started laughing, “If it weren’t so preposterous, I’d think you must be lying, but who would come up with such a story -- _and_ have ‘Slytherin’ tattooed in runes to support it? You know, I can’t believe I never thought that those runes were just _letters_. It’s been so long since anyone used runes to communicate -- they’re always used as magical conduits these days.”

Salazar nodded, “Yes, in my day, many still read and wrote in what you now call the Elder Futhark. However, I was also versed in Latin.”

“Wait -- how do you know Modern English?”

“Ah, the Fates did me a few favours. One was to bestow upon me the gift of the modern tongue, and the other was an understanding of the cultural shifts since my death.”

“Mighty accommodating of them, really. They could have just thrust you into it.”

“Very true.” Salazar hesitated. “I truly do hope you will afford me the opportunity of satisfying their charge.”

Hermione considered his request, “The charge of making me happy?”

He nodded.

“Well, Mister Slytherin, you only have about a hundred and fifty years to accomplish your task. Get to work!”

Salazar laughed and kissed her thoroughly. Satisfying the Fates would not be such a burden after all.

▲▼▲▼▲▼

**Epilogue** (Also known as “wrapping up the loose ends”)

After six months of dating, Hermione and Salazar married. He had taken the Potions post at Hogwarts, but Flooed home every evening to be with Hermione. He refused the positions of Head of House and Headmaster, preferring to leave the castle every evening to be with his beloved. 

Hermione took on her apprentices, as scheduled. Once they were fully trained, she left the shop to them during the school year, and took the post of Charms professor when Flitwick retired. 

Salazar was the very happy beneficiary of Hermione’s ‘addiction’ to La Perla and Nimue’s Knickers. Her penchant for sexy underthings was a source of great amusement to him -- she could be so very practical in her daily life, but she truly loved to indulge in expensive knickers and bras. Her only rule was no ripping the couture, and he was quite willing to comply. 

Hermione was so happy, she didn’t even hex Severus and Pansy for their complicity in their plot ‘against’ her. She did, however, decide that it was time for Severus to settle down and she enlisted Pansy in this endeavour. 

When Severus was ready to retire, the Board of Governors approached Salazar again about taking the reins of the school as Headmaster. He accepted the role and returned to the office that he had left so many years previous, Hermione at his side. 

He was regularly heard saying “Iċ lufie þē.” Hermione always replied with, “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, Jen, a.k.a. UnseenLibrarian.  
> I also need to thank my unflagging cheerleader, sapphire_phoenix.
> 
> Image of Salazar: http://www.liltempest.com/WoTCasting/Forsaken/Moridin1.jpg  
> Rune Meanings: http://www.sunnyway.com/runes/meanings.html  
> Indian restaurant: http://www.gopalsofsoho.co.uk/  
> Source of Salazar’s understanding of origins: Jamie’s_Lady - The True Heart’s Wish http://grangerenchanted.com/enchant/viewstory.php?sid=4345  
> Iċ lufie þē means “I love you” in Anglo-Saxon.
> 
> Salazar’s pseudonym “Fenwick” means “From Fen” according to Anglo-Saxon naming conventions (http://www.mybirthcare.com/favorites/pg2/Anglo-Saxon-names.asp - “Benwick” means “From Ben.”)
> 
> http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Merlin  
> http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Order_of_Merlin


End file.
